


Come What May

by Unadulterated



Series: War and Death Aren't Synonyms (but they're not antonyms either) [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Babies!, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, no really the Greek gods are messed up, that awkward moment when you realize how closely related you are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unadulterated/pseuds/Unadulterated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, Five Times Nico Doesn't Approve of Clarisse's Life Choices (and One Time He Does). Sometimes he thinks she's really just out to make him regret existing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come What May

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly, It Goes On was never meant to have a companion, but this just materialized out of thin air and I honestly can't find myself regretting these 10,000 words. Even though my editor is finally firmly convinced I've cracked. (Which, if you're wondering, I totally have.)
> 
> Yeah, I don't know how this happened either.

**I**

" _You know, I'd thought we'd stay a little longer this time. Without you storming out and all."_

" _You can, if you want. I'm not stopping you."_

" _Ha ha. You think I'm dealing with a sappy couple like Percy and Annabeth_ alone _? Oh, the horror…"_

* * *

It's nearly a full year after coming back that Clarisse decides, rather abruptly in Nico's opinion, that she doesn't want to hang around any longer.

It might have a little to do with the fact that Connor stopped by about a month ago, eye patch looking like a pirate impersonation, and he's flatly, quietly astonished that Clarisse has wandered back within a hundred miles of the place she's avoided like the plague for the past several years.

Katie and Clarisse had a very long talk a few months before that, out in the forest, and when they came back Nico didn't ask any questions. Clarisse was blinking considerably more than was usual, which Nico didn't comment on, but Katie seemed maybe not quite as likely to break down if a memorable Stoll brother prank was mentioned within her earshot.

Of course, Clarisse doesn't talk to  _Nico_  or anything crazy like that when she suddenly decides to bail. Nico's chatting with Percy and Annabeth, who still act like a ridiculously sappy newly-in-love couple (despite being married with a new son), when Annabeth stares curiously at something over Nico's shoulder and actually misses a playful jibe from Percy.

Nico turns his head out of his own curiosity and freezes. Chiron, who doesn't look happy, is talking to Clarisse, who is carrying bags that look quite packed.

Of course. Because helping Chiron blackmail her into being the new spear trainer was  _so_  cold-hearted on Nico's part that he doesn't deserve a goodbye.

He storms over like the temperamental teenager that he is—well, if almost nineteen still counts as young enough to act like a teenager—and gives Clarisse the absurd mix between a pout and a glare he usually gives Percy when he does something particularly stupid, like shuffling his Mythomagic deck and getting all the cards out of order.

Clarisse's shoulders tense and her level stare is cold. She thinks he's going to stop her.

Even  _Nico_  isn't that stupid, though.

"You're  _leaving_?" he snaps, crossing his arms and intensifying his glare. Clarisse meets his eyes for a moment, but something in them wants to look away.

"Yes," she says stiffly, her hands gripping the straps of her bags hard enough to make her knuckles turn white.

Nico sighs heavily, a very put-upon sound. "And you're not even telling me where you're going? How in Hades am I supposed to stalk you now?"

Chiron gives him a really weird look, but Nico has gotten far too many of those before, both from him and from others, for it to have any effect. The centaur doesn't quite get it, but Clarisse looks like she just took a bite of something appearing rather nasty only to find it wasn't so bad after all.

They don't do classic reassurances, and his snarking tells Clarisse better than any words that he will follow her wherever she goes. Even if that's away from camp.

Clarisse rolls her eyes and hefts the strap of her bag up to her shoulder. "I'm taking the Grey Sister's Taxi out of here. I think I found a good apartment about an hour or two from here, I'll IM you when I'm sure."

Nico nods, able to accept that, and watches her walk away.

Chiron's still got that raised-eyebrow look that makes Nico wonder what he did this time. "Stalking?" he asks wryly, and Nico smirks a little, shrugging.

"It's about the closest thing that makes sense."

"You can't just admit you're friends and be done with it?" the centaur asks with no small amount of amusement.

"Nope," Nico confirms. He's pretty sure Clarisse might secretly agree with that label, but he's also pretty sure she'd punch him if he dared say it aloud in the middle of camp, because she's paranoid about her reputation like that.

Nico doesn't think he's any worse than a daughter of Aphrodite, but whatever floats her boat.

There's that long-suffering look in Chiron's deep brown eyes that says he'll never completely understand the heroes he trains, not even after three thousand years.

* * *

Clarisse does send him the address, and he does 'stalk' her. Or, to use Chiron's words, he's her friend in the only way she'll allow.

She hasn't given him a key—not yet, anyway—so he goes to her door and shadow travels to the other side without knocking. He never does, and he's not about to change that just because she went and decided to get a new apartment.

For whatever reason, seeing as it's about three in the afternoon, she's in the kitchen, staring in apparent mystification at a random page in a cookbook Nico's never seen before. He hops up on the counter next to her, making the top of her head come to about his nose, and reflects how very unfair it is that she's two inches taller than him.

"So, finally decided to learn how to cook something that's not boxed or frozen?" he asks. Clarisse grunts at him, snapping the book shut and glaring at him. She knew he was there, otherwise he would have had a spear to the gut or something similarly befitting a child of Ares.

"After a year of the nymphs' food every day, it seemed like a good idea," Clarisse admits. She sighs and tosses the book unceremoniously in the trash. "Lost cause, though."

Nico smirks. "Seriously. Gods know  _you_  shouldn't be allowed to cook anything but monster shish-kebabs on the flames of whatever building you burned down most recently."

"I'm not an arsonist," she growls at him.

"Just a monster slayer."

"Well, duh." She shoves Nico off the table and somehow he manages not to break his nose on the tile floor. If he wasn't used to spontaneous acts of violence by the usual monsters and occasional temperamental female at camp, there's no way he would have been able to survive Clarisse in the first place, daughter of the war god that she was. As it is, she's good training for monster awareness.

Nico slouches against the table and fixes Clarisse with a look that makes her shift slightly; she knows what he's going to say.

"I can't believe you left again," he growls disapprovingly.

"I don't see why not," she says carelessly. "I have my own life to live."

"You're not staying away forever this time," Nico tells her. Clarisse shoots him a dirty look for ordering her around and opens her mouth to retort, but he says quickly, "I'm not going to let you. So help me Zeus, if I have to drag you back through the shadows to get you back to camp, I will."

Clarisse stares at him blankly for almost a full minute. Nico isn't sure if it's because she can't think of anything to say or because everything she's thinking up needs to be censored.

She never censors, so he decides it's the first.

"Why—what in Hades do you think you are, my dad? I don't think he's exactly the person you want to emulate," she snarls at him. Nico crosses his arms stubbornly.

"Exactly. He needs a replacement. And no, by the gods, I am  _not_  trying to be your dad. That's a horror even I don't have the stomach to contemplate." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Just… next time you decide to run off and do something you  _know_  I think is stupid, warn me first, alright?"

Clarisse seems to realize Nico isn't trying to threaten her. Her shoulders relax minutely. "No promises," she mutters.

Nico doesn't expect any.

* * *

**II**

" _You'd think you hit too many things with that spear of yours as it is. I should have realized that wouldn't be enough for you."_

" _Are you calling me overly violent?"_

" _Definitely."_

" _Good. Just making sure."_

* * *

Having left her job at Home Depot back in Houston hadn't been a problem at Camp Half-Blood. However, renting an apartment in New York wasn't exactly as easy on the wallet as a free stay in her dad's cabin.

Nico jokes that she should be the bouncer for a bar. She punches him for that one, and he's rubbing his arm and complaining for two hours after but he claims she just proved his point.

Whatever.

She does get a job, though. And if she already knows Nico's going to hate it, well, that was part of the allure.

* * *

"Wait, did you go to camp without me?" Nico asks her suddenly, sounding about as surprised as she is by the question.

She stops trying to puzzle out the spaghetti that is the words on the back of a frozen dinner and stares up at him instead. "Why would I go back  _there_?" she says, skepticism coloring her tone. Not that she genuinely hates camp, but it's only been a month or two; why on earth would she go back so soon, especially of her own free will?

Nico gives her a funny look, his heels kicking the side cupboards under the counter as he swings his feel like a little kid. "Run in with a monster?" he hypothesizes.

This time she actually sets down the box, giving up on her frozen chicken alfredo for the moment, and raises her eyebrows as far as they go without coming off her forehead. "Um, no, my apartment would be  _so_  trashed, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't get my deposit back."

"Okay," Nico says slowly. "Then who'd you pick a fight with?" Clarisse sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, and opens her mouth to say something, but he adds, "And how'd they manage to get a hit on you? That's a pretty nasty bruise on your jaw."

Suddenly, Clarisse feels like an idiot, and she gingerly touches the admittedly 'pretty nasty bruise' that colors the right side of her jaw a nasty shade of yellow. She'd forgotten about it—it's mostly healed by now, but of course Nico would notice anyway.

"Oh. That bruise," she says weakly.

Nico gives her a sarcastic nod. "Yeah. That bruise." She can see he's waiting for an explanation, but she's actually kind of reluctant to say anything.

Which is utterly ridiculous. Nico isn't her father, gods forbid, and he's not in charge of her. She doesn't owe him a thing.

Hades, who is she kidding? She owes him pretty much everything.

"Training," she says, trying not to mumble and trying not to blush. "I… I box, now. Figured it's better than Home Depot."

Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't been able to chase him off yet that makes her squirm. He's six years younger than her, but somehow they're a lot more like equals than they are older sibling vs. younger sibling. Or the roles got a little screwy, at least.

Either way, Nico's incredulous stare bores into her like few things could. "You took up boxing," he says flatly.

Clarisse rolls her eyes. "That's what I just said, Einstein."

It takes him a moment to process it, but when he swallows the fact down he only shakes his head. "I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. You Ares kids—too violent for your own good."

"You mean, 'too violent for  _everyone else's_  good,'" she corrects him, and he has to concede her point.

Honestly, after spotting his immediate reaction on his face, she's amazed he doesn't say anything until she breaks two fingers on the same hand and has a hard time hefting her spear, just in time for a monster attack. He needles her about  _that_  for weeks.

But it's not his life, so he doesn't actually try to make her do anything; it's probably the only reason they're still friends, all things told.

If they can call it 'friends,' anyway. It just doesn't seem to be the right term.

* * *

**III**

" _I don't like him."_

" _You don't like anybody."_

" _So? I_ really _don't like him."_

* * *

The first time Clarisse brings Calvin to her place and Nico pops in like the crazy kid from the underworld that he is, she could bang her head on the wall until she gives herself a concussion and still feel like screaming.

She lets out a huge sigh as Calvin stills and tenses, staring at Nico. The son of Hades was prattling on about two seconds ago about absolutely nothing (well, it was something—about Percy and Annabeth seriously needing to get a room, or at least leave the sword arena next time, she thinks) when he spots Calvin and immediately shuts up. His dark eyes glint and narrow, and suddenly he's giving Clarisse's boyfriend a death glare that's at least as off-putting as Medusa's head.

"Um, who—"

"That's Nico. Long story," Clarisse says quickly. "He's—kind of like my little brother." Funny, Nico used to glare at her when she said that, and right now she'd welcome it. For once, she doesn't want a fight; she's put in eight hours of training today and helped Chiron out with lessons involving showing new campers which end of the spear will actually kill a monster, and she's absolutely wiped.

"And you are?" Nico says calmly, his glare slowly fading into a blank expression that Clarisse thinks looks like he's mapping out all thirty-something ways he could kill Calvin if he makes a wrong move. Survival instinct demands that Clarisse let go of his hand and step away just in case, but she tightens her holdinstead—Nico can just get a grip.

He's thinking of Darren, she's pretty sure, and Calvin's  _not_  like that.

"This is Calvin," Clarisse practically snaps, not exactly favorable at the reminder of  _him._  Stupid cheater. It was more than a year ago, anyway; ancient history. "Now, shoo."

Nico gives her a slightly incredulous stare, like he can't believe she just told him to  _shoo_  like a dog or little kid, but he snorts, rolls his eyes, and vanishes into the room he sleeps in more nights than not.

"Ignore him," Clarisse says to Calvin, weariness settling on her shoulders. "He's… well." She shrugs, because she's pretty sure her, Percy, and Annabeth are some of the only people who can deal with Nico on a regular basis—he's surprisingly understanding underneath it all, but to get to that you've got to skim through a lot of surface brat.

"I think I can deal with him," Calvin says, squeezing her hand slightly as she leads him into the kitchen. She smiles a little, even if he can't see it. He's hot, strong, and treats her better than most.

Nico can just shove it.

* * *

"What, are you trying to control my life?" Clarisse snarls at Nico, two hours later. Calvin has left, and now it's just the two of them arguing in the kitchen.

Nico glares back. "No, I'm not  _controlling your life._ Zeus knows that would be way more than a fulltime job," he growls back. "I'm just—does the name 'Darren' ring a bell?"

Her temper flares, and she swings at him. He dodges, but she follows up quick enough to catch him in the chest. He stumbles back against the fridge, rubbing his chest, and holds up a hand that's kind of a truce, but not really, because she knows he doesn't regret mentioning  _him_.

She doesn't punch him again. Once was enough to show how ticked she is, and besides, Chiron would get pretty mad if she sent him to the camp infirmary because she'd just gotten a new boyfriend—one that Nico didn't like.

"Who I date is none of your business!" she says, clenching her fists because even though she won't punch him again, it's pretty tempting. "And he's not like Darren, okay? Just—stop mentioning  _him_ , okay?"

Nico's so different than any of Clarisse's cabin mates, sometimes she doesn't know how to get her point across. With her siblings, there'd be a violent fistfight and a whole lot of swearing and insults. But Nico, while able to hold his own, doesn't get in fights the way Ares kids did, and certainly doesn't seem to think it could solve a problem without creating a bitter grudge. As for swearing, Nico is more fluent in sarcasm. And the last thing she wants to do is chase him into the shadows in the middle of an unresolved fight: he'd stew on it for weeks.

"I don't want you getting hurt again," he says flatly, and despite her resolution to try to not use her fists, she loses it and punches the fridge right next to his head hard enough that it's going to bruise. Impressively, he doesn't flinch.

"It's not your gods damned problem," she snarls at him. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're acting like some jealous ex or something."

Clarisse realizes what she just said about the same time Nico does, judging by the funny look on his face. "Your ex," he says slowly.

She swallows down an instinctive protest and nods once, because embarrassing comparison aside, it's totally true. "A jealous one," she reaffirms.

And that's how they somehow end up snorting laughter through the last bit of their argument. This is definitely why Nico would never be able to work out issues with the whole of the Ares cabin, because Clarisse feels about as un-Ares-like as she can while leaning on a kitchen counter for support as she cracks up, because creepy Nico with his skeletons and shadows as  _her boyfriend,_ even a past one? Gods, no.

"Fine, fine," Nico says finally, when they're no longer leaking tears from laughing so hard. Maybe she should be a little more offended that he finds it so hilarious to be thought of as her boyfriend, but it'll be easier if she won't think of it that way, so she doesn't. "I know when I'm not appreciated," he snips. "I'll leave you alone. But when he shows his true colors as a total douche, I am  _so_  going to say I told you so."

* * *

Three months later, after being the greatest boyfriend Clarisse has had to date (Chris doesn't count in these polls—he was so much better than anyone else could ever be), Calvin calls her from two states away and tells her he's in love with someone else.

She rages for a good three hours, kills a few monsters, breaks a dish or two and punches a hole in the wall in the hallway. When her anger's worked out in the best way it can be without beating him up, two states away that he is, she screams into her pillow for a long time and pretends it's not wet when she's finally done.

Nico is there, like he was the time before, but despite his promise, he doesn't say  _I told you so._

* * *

**IV**

" _I think I've just been scarred for life. By your stupidity and source of this whole crazy weird issue."_

" _Nico, shut up."_

" _No, seriously, did you have to wait until Chiron—"_

" _Nico. Shut_   _the_   _Hades_   _up_."

* * *

Nico is grateful for the distinct lack of terrible life decisions (in his eyes, anyway) on Clarisse's part over the next several months. After Calvin broke up with her and made Nico sit through  _another_  messy breakup on Clarisse's side, she even stopped boxing and went for a less dangerous job. At least, he doesn't think working at another Home Depot could be  _too_  dangerous.

Of course, there was that time about a month and a half after Calvin left that happened to be February, and Clarisse went out and freaked Nico out wondering where she'd gone until she came back depressed, but not  _as_  depressed as usual. And only a little tipsy.

However that happened, Nico's still isn't quite sure but figures it was a good thing. And she's been downright low-key for the past three months, even if she seems to be getting kind of sick.

Which he only points out once, before nearly having his head bitten off. He backs off for a few weeks and hopes Chiron will pick up on it if she's actually come down ill.

Although there definitely seems to be something up. Nico watches Clarisse stride into the kitchen and throw two bagels into the toaster before pouring the only cup of coffee she would have that day and sipping it slowly. Nico still can't believe that Clarisse, who is practically a coffee addict, has suddenly managed to only have one cup a day, but each to his (or her) own, he supposes. That, and Nico isn't quite sure he wants to know the reason for her sudden drawback.

He's on his second cup and well on the way to waking up. It's the usual routine, Clarisse getting ready and going to work or Camp Half-Blood while Nico wakes up and does whatever he feels like that day, or occasionally goes down to the Underworld if his dad has a job for him.

A normal morning routine for some seriously absurd lives.

Suddenly, Clarisse gasps and drops the bagel she's buttering. She leans against the counter with one hand while the other winds its way around her stomach. She's far paler than usual.

Nico lurches to his feet, just in case he needs to catch her, but Clarisse doesn't look like she's going to fall over. "Are you okay?" he asks, an instinctive question that he wouldn't ask Clarisse of all people unless something had happened—like dropping her breakfast and looking ready to throw up.

Clarisse swallows, but she nods. "I'm fine," she says. "Just… just feeling a little sick."

"I'll tell Chiron you won't be coming in for lessons," Nico suggests cautiously. Clarisse hesitates, seeming to think about it, which sets Nico's mind long before she shakes her head.

"No, I—"

"I'm telling Chiron you won't be in. Don't kill yourself at work," he adds, because if Chiron knows Clarisse is sick enough to admit it even by hesitation, he'll stop her. Her boss probably won't, and she'll go unless Nico physically tries to prevent it, which just can't possibly end well for anyone.

Clarisse frowns, but she seems to recognize his compromise with her work and relents. She leaves the room, adjusting the somewhat bulky vest she's taken to wearing and looking shaken. Nico decides to keep a closer eye on her.

* * *

It doesn't seem to fade over the next two weeks, but Clarisse isn't as pale as she was in the kitchen that morning, and Nico reminds himself that she's a month from her twenty-sixth birthday and she hardly needs a babysitter.

At least, that's his opinion when Clarisse suddenly explodes and yells at him to stop hovering over her like a harpy and that she's "perfectly fine, thanks, so shove off!" Nico doesn't think he's hovering, more like occasionally glancing over from afar, but attributes the sudden release of frustration to her PMSing. It's happened before, and he wouldn't like a repeat of the incident that practically shredded his aviator jacket. The trench coat's new.

She goes through her usual chocolate-attack phase where Nico hides his own stash of candy but makes sure there's at least one carton of chocolate ice cream in the freezer, and Clarisse pouts in her room or the bathroom when she's not at work or teaching at camp.

She seems emotional even for one of her weeks, though, and Nico swears it's lasting a lot longer than it should. After a full two weeks, Nico decides they're going to camp and he'll work up the courage to ask Chiron what in Hades is wrong with her.

This is how he ends up sitting next to the eternally insufferable lovebirds—ahem, he means Percy and Annabeth. They're talking about Sherman, their son, who's currently being fawned over by the Aphrodite girls. Nico has taken to calling the kid 'Nemo' when they're not listening, due to the fact that the fifteen-month-old with blond hair and huge green eyes seems to like toddling around with the lake's naiads rather than actual campers.

"So, how are you and Clarisse?" Annabeth asks, all smile and sparkling grey eyes.

Nico groans. "You make it sound like we're a couple."

"You live together," Percy points out. Nico levels Percy's smirk with a glare.

"True," he admits reluctantly, "but it's not like we're—we're not a couple, okay? It's a disturbing concept." Nico shudders, because, after all, he's not lying. Him and Clarisse is like Blackjack and Mrs. O'Leary. Each okay in their own right, but—no. Just no.

"I think she's sick," Nico murmurs, making sure Clarisse can't hear from where she's yelling at a few twelve-year-olds like a drill-sergeant. She'll pound him to a pulp if she hears he said anything. "She—she's just out of sorts. Randomly freaking out on me and stuff. I don't know."

"She's probably PMSing," Percy says bluntly, making Nico snicker as Annabeth whacks her husband upside the head.

But after the initial laughter, Nico can only shake his head. "That's actually what I thought at first. But, for two weeks?" Percy makes a face as he tilts his head to concede the point.

Annabeth's got a strange, thoughtful look on her face as she stares at Clarisse. "Have you talked to Chiron?"

"I'm going to," Nico admits. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he's sidetracked by Clarisse starting to spar with one of her siblings. Usually she'd rip him to shreds with Maimer, but today she's slower and doesn't seem to be able to move quite as fast. Nico's frowning as he spots Chiron galloping over. He stands, figuring that now is as good a time as any to ask him.

But the centaur doesn't stop when Nico thinks he will. He goes right up to Clarisse and her cabin mate, interfering and forcing them to stop the spar. The kids watching look surprised, Clarisse's sibling looks surprised, but Clarisse herself only slumps slightly—what? That doesn't make sense. She usually guts anyone who interrupts her fights.

When Chiron turns to her, Nico sees a hard light in his eyes that he doesn't think he's seen since the war.

"Why are you sparring?" Chiron asks her calmly. It seems like an odd question: why  _wouldn't_  a child of Ares be sparring? But Clarisse's knuckles go white as she grips her spear tighter.

"I teach," she says tightly. Chiron's front hooves paw at the ground as he crosses his arms. He's obviously not happy with her, even if Nico has no idea why. The son of Hades makes his way closer, not wanting to interfere in the conversation but intensely curious of what Chiron was talking about. That, and he'll probably be asked to take sides, which is what usually happens, and he's got to know what they're talking about first.

"Not at the moment, you don't. You should have stopped weeks ago, Clarisse, and I certainly should have stopped you before now." Chiron's vaguely tense rumble of a voice is causing quite a few stares of the kids there to learn and a rather blank look from Clarisse's sibling. The centaur waves them away, looking more than a little agitated. "Go. The lesson is over."

The kids scamper away. The Ares camper looks more skeptical, but seems to sense he's not going to want to be here in a few minutes, and leaves after a short hesitation.

Chiron turns to Nico, and he half-expects to be shooed away, but the centaur only gives him a disapproving look. "Why did you let her come?"

Nico stares blankly. "Me? What do you mean—"

"He's got nothing to do with this," Clarisse snaps. "And it's really none of his business, so he should just—"

"Nuh-uh," Nico states, giving his head a firm shake. "I've been convinced you were sick for ages, Clarisse. I was going to ask Chiron about it today, actually."

Clarisse actually looks betrayed—her expression is slowly morphing from stubbornly defensive to scared, and suddenly Nico realizes this is something a lot more serious than he thought. He really should have gone to Chiron earlier.

"I—This doesn't concern either of you!" Clarisse snarls at them, a cornered rat. Chiron gives her a skeptical look and shoots a meaningful look in Nico's direction, who still doesn't get it, but Clarisse colors instantly and actually shoves Chiron, who only prances back a step. "Don't—It's not—Just leave me alone!" she shrieks. "It doesn't matter!"

"On the contrary," Chiron thunders, suddenly seeming about ten feet taller as he frowns down at her, "it matters quite a lot. That's a  _child_ you're carrying, and you need to take care of yourself while it remains inside of you!"

Chiron probably didn't mean to say all that  _quite_  so loud, seeing how he blinks when suddenly the arena is dead silent.

Clarisse stares at him in shock, lip trembling slightly. And then she turns and runs.

"Clarisse—no, wait!" Chiron nearly gallops after her, but she still sprints fast and she's already leaping onto the nearest grazing pegasus and kicking its sides until it rises into the air with a whinny of surprise. The centaur curses in Ancient Greek, but only makes a warding off evil gesture as he watches the quickly disappearing speck in the sky, likely for the sake of Clarisse's safety.

The arena's still dead silent.

"Child?" Nico squeaks, because that's the only thing his brain keeps running into like a brick wall.

Chiron gives him a rather grave look and heaves a sigh. "Yes. I'm surprised she didn't tell you before now, but I suppose it can't be helped now."

"Tell me?" Nico echoes blankly, because he can kind of see why Clarisse didn't say anything, even if he's going to  _strangle_ her for it later.

Percy and Annabeth come up beside him. "I thought you said you weren't together?" Percy asks, giving him a weird look, and Nico's brain fights the instinctive urge to roll over and die right now. That would be  _so_ much easier than trying to cope with this embarrassment and urge to punch the guy who thinks—

"I am  _not_  the dad!" Nico practically yells, because  _that_  is one Hades of a scarring thought. "We're—I didn't—We've never—"

"Okay," Annabeth says, soothing and amiable. "We believe you." She puts a hand on his shoulder that doesn't much stop him from continuing to absolutely have a mental breakdown. She's coping with the shock quite well.

Actually, she's the only one apart from Chiron that doesn't look surprised. Nico recalls the thoughtful look she fixed Clarisse with while she was still sparring and decides it was a motherly instinct or something.

Chiron now looks quite upset, glancing up at the sky and letting out quiet curses in Ancient Greek. "Oh dear. I hope she's alright… I don't think she should necessarily be riding a pegasus at the moment…"

Nico bristles. "Forget the pegasus. Why the hell didn't she tell me?"

"I thought you weren't the father?" Percy insinuates slyly, meriting a punch to the stomach from a rather irate son of Hades—he's spent enough time around Clarisse for her tendency to lash out when upset to rub off on him. Not to say it was effective, however; gods damned Curse of Achilles.

"I've been asking her if she was sick for weeks!" Nico snarls. He throws his hands up in the air and stalks away without saying goodbye. The shadows on one of the outer walls of the arena are big enough for his purposes, and he bends them around him as he strides through.

He and Clarisse need to have a nice, long chat.

* * *

Nico waits in the living room impatiently, feet kicked up on the couch and his face schooled into a supremely annoyed expression. Why does Clarisse always seem to do her absolute best to make life for Nico as hard as possible?

Of course, the bitter thought is immediately put to shame as the door slams open suddenly enough for Nico to jerk his feet off the couch, and Clarisse bursts into her apartment, not seeing Nico as she scrambles to close the door and slides to the floor leaning against it, shaking with violent sobs.

Nico might have been blindsided the revelation, but Clarisse is the one whose revelation it was.

"Clarisse?" he murmurs, shocked into a near whisper. He's not sure she hears him, and she certainly doesn't look up. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her belly, where the vest, which she had  _apparently_  began wearing randomly, covers the swell of her stomach.

There's nothing he can think of to say, and he kneels near her, tentatively reaching out to brush a few stray ribbons of hair off her shoulder. Her hand reflexively lashes out and catches him in a blow across his face, but he only sucks in a quick breath and waits for the sting to fade before reaching out again.

She doesn't hit him again, instead crying harder and hugging herself tighter.

Somehow he ends up with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and she's crying onto his shoulder—Nico reflects bitterly that the only two ways this would ever conceivably happen is with Clarisse drunk or pregnant.

_Pregnant._

Nico decides there's something kind of really wrong with his life and sighs as he rests his forehead on her hair.

It takes probably about an hour for Clarisse to wind down, but it's only a rough estimate. Nico's ADHD kicks in after a while and he notices several things, such as the fact that Clarisse's hair smells like strawberries, the vest does an admirable job of hiding what should be a pretty obvious addition of weight, and his trench coat is most definitely not water proof.

"Oh, gods," Clarisse sniffles, rubbing her eyes furiously. "I can't believe I just—"

"Tried teaching kids how to fight with spears when you were  _obviously pregnant_?" Nico snaps, and somehow manages not to gag on the last word.

Clarisse scowls at him, her red-rimmed eyes making it clear she won't hesitate to knock his lights out. "Apparently not  _obviously_. You didn't notice."

Nico isn't cowed by her glare and doesn't react to the jibe at his observation skills. "How far along are you?" he demands.

She hesitates, looking away and chewing her lip. Almost unconsciously, she curls a little around her stomach. "About four and a half months," she whispers.

Halfway along, and she's sparring with someone who didn't know not to hit her stomach. "Why—" Nico cuts himself off. He doesn't  _want_  to get all frustrated on Clarisse, he's just—well, frustrated. "Clarisse," he says, trying to make his voice gentle and somewhat doubtful of his results, "why did you hide it?"

"I'm  _scared_ , okay?" she barks, and real fear flashes across her eyes as she seems to realize what she just said, and to whom. She squeezes her eyes shut and puts a hand over her mouth, her shoulders tensing like she thinks he's going to hit her or something.

"Um, please don't cry," Nico begs, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. A quick punch to the arm puts a quick stop to that and through almost-suppressed tears, Clarisse glares at him.

"It's not—I mean, all girls have babies. I'm not scared of  _that_ —well, I am"—she sends him a lethal look that promises a slow and painful death should he repeat that to anyone at camp—"but only some. I'm—I'm not a mom. I can't be—I'm alone," she whispers, and again, Nico has nothing to say.

Because, seeing as this child is  _certainly_  not Nico's, she's right. She's alone.

"Is it Calvin's?" Nico asks quietly, poison seeping into his tone. He will  _hunt him down_  if he knocked Clarisse up and left her to deal with a baby alone.

But Clarisse shakes her head, giving a bitter laugh. "If it were, I'd go kill him for leaving."

"Who? You do know, don't you?"

Clarisse punches him again, and Nico lets out a yelp, because it's the same spot and damn, she hits hard. "What do you take me for?" she snarls at him. "Yes, I know who it is. I just—" She covers her face in her hands and takes a shaky breath. Nico half-panics, but now knows better than to try to comfort her unless she's already bawling.

"Okay," he says instead. "Okay. Um, you… You won't be totally alone, okay?"

Clarisse stares at him.

"I mean, I'm here. I could—I don't know. Help a bit?"

The stare turns incredulous. "Are you offering to help raise my child?"

When she puts it that way, it sounds fairly disturbing. Nico wrinkles his nose. "Ew. I take that back. Pay me and I'll babysit, though."

Clarisse snorts at him, a strange thing a strange thing to see since she still has tear tracks down her face. "I've fed you for more than a year, punk. I'm pretty sure that counts as pay."

Nico sees the sense in that, but… "No more spear lessons," he says sternly. She makes a face, but he's pretty sure she would be absolutely blissful if she didn't have to show her face at camp ever again, after that mortifying reveal. "And you're talking to your manager, because you can't just keep going to work until you… you know…" He hesitates over the phrase and then forsakes it entirely.

Clarisse stares at him and raises one eyebrow. "Give birth?" she suggests. Her voice is innocent, but her face can't quite pull it off.

Nico's pretty sure he's beet red, but he ignores it. "Yeah. And I repeat, no stupid stuff. It's, well…"

_Stupid._

" _Di Imortales,_ your mother-henning is just going to get worse, isn't it," Clarisse mutters.

"Damn straight," Nico confirms.

* * *

**V**

" _I don't think I can look at you anymore."_

" _Nico…"_

" _Okay, fine, I can look at you. But not_ him  _anymore."_

* * *

It's another month before Nico's griping about her sleeping with a guy who wouldn't stay when Clarisse's right hand would have left a nasty mark across the face if he hadn't ducked.

"He  _can't_ stay, okay? He's one of the gods!"

Nico stares at her for a long moment, taking in the angry face and stubborn disposition, and gropes for the nearest chair to sit down as quickly as possible. "Y—you what?" he stammers.

Clarisse puts a hand to her forehead and rubs at it, a common gesture now that she gets tired if she yells at Nico too much. "Yes," she growls, "the father is a god."

"Which one?" Nico isn't sure he actually wants to know, but he asks anyway.

It's possibly lucky that she only glares and her cheeks redden. "None of your business."

Nico's pretty sure it  _is_ , actually, all things considered, but he's got the distinct impression that he'll just be disturbed if he figures out which one. Ares is out, obviously, seeing as that's just messed up on  _so_ many levels, but even if it's Apollo or someone—Well. If it's Apollo, Nico's going to laugh his head off and will probably either get pounded to a pulp by Clarisse or become a pincushion for golden arrows by way of an archery god for thinking it's so funny.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Good. I don't think I want to know, anyway."

Clarisse changes the subject almost instantly, but Nico doesn't find that very surprising.

* * *

"So the father's a god," Annabeth muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Percy's still shaking his head in bemusement, apparently with Nico in the weirdness of it, but Annabeth has taken it in stride. "Oh, for heaven's sake, you two, why shouldn't he be a god?" she snaps. Glancing sidelong at Percy, she points out, "If Percy hadn't rejected Zeus's offer, Sherman would be the child of a god, too."

Percy and Nico meet each other's eyes and come to the same silent decision: that really doesn't make it any better.

"I'd still be twenty-four, though," Percy points out. "The rest of them…" He and Nico share another significant look.

"They're ancient," Nico says. "Like, literally." He makes a face, really not wanting to think about it. Clarisse is his friend, and it makes his hackles raise to think she's just the next in a long line of lovers to a being that can't even interfere to help her raise the child.

"It was her decision," Annabeth says firmly, fixing her grey eyes knowingly on Nico as if she can read his thoughts. "She knew what she was doing and it's not your job to try to convince her she was wrong."

"Keep this worrying up, Nico, and nobody's going to believe you when you say there's nothing between you two,"  
Percy snickers. There's a distinct  _thud_  as Nico's head hits the table and he groans loudly.

"Gods, where's the brain bleach? Bad enough she's  _pregnant,_  don't you dare insinuate I—"

The oven timer goes off, and Nico stops talking in favor of sniffing the air with a dreamy expression as Annabeth takes her casserole masterpiece out of the oven and sets it on top of the stove. Nico was floored the first time Percy mentioned Annabeth cooked—she hardly seemed patient enough—but when he'd heard her griping about how the 'grandmother recipes' gave  _no_  exact measurements with their _pinches of this_ and  _sprinkles of that_  and how it took all the science out of it, Nico understood.

No matter her scientific griping, however, her food is heavenly. Nico lets out a blissful sigh, temporarily distracted from his perpetual bone to pick with Clarisse.

'Temporarily' being the operative word. "Annabeth, why did you make two pans?" Percy asks curiously.

"Nico's taking the second back to Clarisse," she says matter-of-factly. Nico cracks open an eye to stare at her disbelievingly.

"What? Why?" he whines.

Annabeth puts her hands on her hips and gives Nico the look she usually uses solely on Sherman. It makes Nico feel about five years old. " _You_ might be a clueless male"—she has no idea how very much she sounds like Artemis right there—"but Clarisse needs to eat properly, even if she's still in denial of the fact." Annabeth's huff makes it very clear what she thinks of Clarisse's denial, and the look on her face testifies that she's building up to a rant.

"I'll take it to her," Nico acquiesces quickly. Annabeth lectured him less than a week ago of how he needs to step up and help Clarisse, since she's so very alone, and Nico has no intention of feeling guilty for not being Clarisse's boyfriend today.

The Aphrodite cabin—actually,  _everyone_ —at camp is at it too much already. Nico consoles himself with the fact that anyone who thinks they could ever actually be a couple just doesn't know them that well.

Annabeth is only derailed for a few moments, but Nico snatches the pan and flips off the light so he can shadow travel away before she has the chance to actually gain momentum.

He discovers (too late, of course) that this plan really wasn't well thought out. He steps into Clarisse's kitchen and narrowly avoids dropping the pan on the floor. "Hot!"

"Get that on the table," Clarisse snaps from through the doorway. Nico occasionally thinks he should be worried at her nonchalance at him dropping in so randomly through walls bearing unexpected yummy gifts, but at the moment he's far more worried about trying not to burn his hands off before the stupid pan gets on the table. He's going to  _need_  those later. The plan clatters onto the table and he rushes to the sink, sighing in relief as the cool water courses over his hands.

"Drama queen," Clarisse growls, waddling into the kitchen. Nico doesn't turn from the miracle of the sink to stare at the swell of her belly—he sees it every time they talk—but he's still quietly amazed. He never knew a pregnant woman could grow that fast: even if Chiron hadn't revealed her secret, it's not likely she would have been able to hide it for much longer.

"Burn your hands off and see how  _you_  feel," Nico mutters sourly.

Clarisse grimaces, puts a hand to her abdomen, and sinks into a chair. Not a good day for aches, then. "Yeah, no thanks. I think I feel awful enough. I swear this baby kicks more than I do."

Nico, over the past few weeks, has managed to school his stuttering and blush whenever she lets something like that slip. Yet still it itches at his neck, and he wishes she hadn't become so casual about the whole thing quite so quickly. As a twenty-year-old single guy, this was _not_  anything he'd signed up for.

No matter what the Aphrodite girls giggled behind their hands while he scowled from where he sat, watching whatever was going on in the arena. He's taken to wandering streets rather than going to camp and listening to their speculations.

Clarisse sniffs at the casserole, pokes at it with a fork, and scoops some into her mouth straight from the pan. She makes a startled hand waving gesture at her mouth, like she didn't already know it was hot, and Nico refrains from making a snarky remark: an impressive act of moderation from the guy who practically exhales sarcasm.

"I'm going to camp tomorrow," Clarisse tells him, once she's swallowed and apparently decided the casserole will taste better a little cooled. Nico knows the questions she's really trying to ask.

"Yeah, I'll get you straight to the infirmary." Chiron has taken over in place of a doctor throughout her pregnancy for checkups—something about mortal doctors not necessarily being a hundred percent capable of dealing with the ever-so-slightly different physiology of half-bloods—and Nico usually shadow travels her straight there. He can perfectly understand her need to stay out of the line of fire of the campers' comments. She's only slightly less volatile, now, and Nico thinks Chiron prefers his campers  _not_  speared into electric shish kebabs; besides, picking a fight with any of them wouldn't be good for the baby.

"I'll get back on my own," Clarisse insists, though, because even five and a half months pregnant, she's slightly obsessed with her independence.

Nico doesn't even argue, just rolls his eyes with his back turned so she won't see.

* * *

The next day, however, he regrets not arguing. Clarisse is now back from her checkup, and she's huddled on the couch with her arms wrapped around her stomach like she's been doing lately when she's seriously upset. Her face is pinched and worried.

"Clarisse?" Nico says warily. If she starts crying, he's probably going to punch something for his own bad luck, but if she doesn't it's better to have a warning before she hits him for coming near.

Clarisse doesn't start crying, a small mercy, but she doesn't say anything either, just glancing at him with darkened eyes.

"You look like your dog just died," Nico deadpans, and sits a little ways from her feet. It's still well within kicking range if she decides to take offense at the comment for  _whatever_  reason—though she doesn't need much a reason these days. Well, she never needed much of one, actually, but it's been worse lately.

"Two," she whispers. She wipes her face with her right hand, possibly brushing away a few tentative tears, while Nico stares at her.

"Two what?" he says blankly. Is whatever she's on about bad or is she just freaking out unnecessarily?

"Twins," she says miserably. "I'm having  _two_ kids."

It takes a minute for Nico to understand why this distresses her, but then he grimaces sympathetically. One child is going to be hard enough for her, from what he remembers of the absolutely mortifying lecture Chiron put him through. Two is going to be even harder.

"Um," he says, still kind of blank. "Would you punch me if I said congratulations?" he asks tentatively.

In answer, she does, and Nico scowls and rubs his arm. "Fine," he grumbles, "see if I ever congratulate you again."

"Just go away," Clarisse spits at him, and Nico's a little taken aback at the venom in her tone—he'd only been trying to lighten the mood a little. He shrugs it off and stands, leaving the room obediently, and reminds himself her moods are hardly able to be considered stable at the moment. And while she may have pretty much agreed to raising a kid alone, she's hardly prepared for two.

He's kind of glad Percy's the one that had to deal with Annabeth, but Nico would feel much better if there was actually a  _reason_  he was hanging around here.

He sighs, knocks his head gently against the wall he's leaning against, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that he's the only person Clarisse  _really_ has to depend on, all the time.

And, when push comes to shove, it goes both ways.

* * *

A couple times over the next few months—more times than he'll ever admit to anyone—Nico finds himself in Chiron's quarters listening to moaning Italians and complaining at length at how much help Clarisse needs and how unreceptive she is to it, and why did she hook up with some god anyway, and he was  _so_  scarred for life about a hundred times over, and why is he sticking around, anyway?

Chiron listens, nods in all the right places and gives the occasional sympathetic hum, and sometimes Nico has to try very hard not to feel like a girl spilling her guts or something. It makes him want to hit something, which isn't exactly the effect he's going for.

"Why is this my life?" he groans helplessly into the desk. Chiron, for whatever reason, has a surprisingly comfortable swivel chair at his desk when he's not actually using it. It makes Nico wonder how many other people come to vent to him.

"I suppose it's because—what was it you said?—ah, yes, you 'stalk' Clarisse."

Not even the supposedly eternally-supportive centaur will give him a break. Nico scowls into the surface of the desk and wonders if stealing all the moaning Italian tapes would be a good move of revenge or just stupid. "We're friends, okay? I admit it. And Clarisse will too. If you catch her at the right moment and mood."

"And you're one of a very select group of people, I'd imagine," Chiron adds wryly. Nico's not looking at him, but he knows Chiron's shaking his head now in fond exasperation. "You two have a very strange dynamic."

"Don't even try to tell me it's totally new," Nico protests tiredly. "You've seen everything."

"Not  _everything_ ," Chiron corrects. "And while I have seen similar dynamics before, I must say that never has one of them ever been with child and needed the other's help quite like this."

Nico gags and idly wonders if he could manage spitting a hairball onto this lovely mahogany desk just for that reminder.

"My life," he says with a sigh, and finally forsakes any hope for anything that could be considered normal.

* * *

Nico's killed before. He'll do it again, if there's an honest reason.

This time, he's not sure who he wants to kill.

"Nico!" Clarisse screams. He swears and accidentally drops the tiny, delicate skull of a creature Nico's pretty sure was magical (when alive, anyway) but is still trying to pinpoint, and it breaks on contact with the wood of what can loosely be considered 'his' desk.

He doesn't bother asking what. If she's actually screaming for him this loud, it's not going to be good; he snatches his sword and practically crashes into the living room, where Clarisse has been putting her swollen feet up on the couch for the past half hour. Now she's kneeling on the floor, face beaded with sweat and looking very in pain. Her arms are wrapped around her stomach.

Nico kneels in front of her and tosses his blade away almost carelessly. "What's wrong?" he asks, quietly in an attempt to keep her calm.

"It—It's starting," she gasps; she's deathly pale. A spasm hits her, and she cries out.

It's from a long way away that Nico hears her. He's reeling in shock, because he's been embarrassed and cringing throughout this gods damned pregnancy and this is just the culmination of the worst.

"I—I—Um…" he stammers. His brain has officially resigned, apparently wanting absolutely nothing to do with him anymore. That's the only way to explain how very blank his head as gone.

Hospital. He should get her to a hospital.

He scrabbles for the lights, finally manages them, and  _(careful careful oh my gods she's going into labor)_  shadow travels them both to right outside the hospital.

* * *

"Is it over?" he asks, reaching out to snag the sleeve of the nurse who just exited the maternity ward. She looks down at him with that vaguely sympathetic look that comes just from being a nurse and asks him the dreaded question.

"Are you the father?"

"No," he snaps angrily, and takes a calming breath. She doesn't understand, and there is no reason for Nico to freak out on her. "I'm all she has," he explains, and the pity that flashes through her eyes somehow isn't patronizing and somehow puts a lump in his throat because, after all, it pretty much goes both ways.

"Come this way," she invites. Nico steels himself and follows her.

Clarisse is lying back tiredly on her pillows, her eyes resting for the moment but flickering open as Nico nears. He's never seen her so vulnerable in his life, which is saying something; he's seen her at what he thought was her weakest before. She holds a little bundle of blankets in each arm.

He stands there awkwardly, hands shoved deep into his pockets until Clarisse gestures to him to take one of the bundles. Normally, Nico's very coordinated—years of sword training and fighting for your life will do that—but right now he feels unbearably clumsy and is terrified to hold the little thing. What if he drops it? Would it even survive that? Very carefully, he takes the bundle and, even more carefully, tucks back a corner of the blanket to stare at the baby's face.

It's blotchy and red looking and looks a little deformed, eyes closed and nose a little scrunched up. Nico's pretty sure babies are  _supposed_  to look that way—or at least, he hopes so.

"Who is this?" he asks in a whisper. For the first time in all these months, he's beginning to understand a small part of the miracle that actually just happened, because this little life in his arms didn't exist all that long ago—he can feel it, can feel its mortality, and it's weak as it hangs onto life but it's  _there_. It seems wrong to talk very loud.

"Aiden," she says. Shifting the remaining bundle in her arms to hold the child more easily, she adds, "This is his little sister, Jade."

"Aiden," he echoes, staring down at the tiny baby below him. Nico lets a finger brush Aiden's cheek, and the newborn squeezes his eyes shut at the touch before opening them.

Nico's pretty sure someone just sucker punched him in the gut.

Because those eyes aren't Clarisse's. But he has seen those eyes, hundreds of times, and he'll see them hundreds of times more before he dies, and after.

So horrified he doesn't think it's really set in yet, he stares up at Clarisse. "Clarisse…" he chokes out. She looks up at him, apparently confused. "His eyes," he practically whimpers, and Clarisse understands.

She at least has the decency to go absolutely and completely beet red. It doesn't help.

Because somehow, as Nico stares dumbfounded at the child in his arms, he's realizing there's something seriously,  _seriously_  wrong with his life. And Clarisse just… Sometimes he thinks she's really just out to make him regret existing.

Because his best friend just gave birth to his younger half-siblings.

* * *

**And One**

" _You—I—you what?"_

" _Look, I get it if you don't want to, I just—"_

" _I'll do it."_

" _What? You will? Oh, thank the gods."_

"…  _No. Thank_ you _, Clarisse."_

* * *

Jade and Aiden are a week old, and Nico's still terrified. Clarisse can't always be holding both, so she makes him hold Aiden a lot, and Nico's worried he'll drop him and the baby will break on the floor. That would be bad and terrible and a number of other words Nico won't say in polite company.

Not that there's ever much of that around him. But still.

He still hasn't confronted his father about the whole 'knocking up his best friend' thing, because that just gives him headaches to  _think_ about and he doesn't need any more proof that his life is seriously and irreversibly screwed (ha ha,  _not_   _funny_ ).

Clarisse comes and sits right next to him with a huge sigh and snags Aiden from his arms. Nico lets her. The kid's cute, now that his head is not so much deformed as really soft with wispy black hair all over it, but Nico's still disturbed by those eyes.

Nico is uncomfortably aware that his personal bubble just got popped, with Clarisse's elbow actually touching his arm, but he's not about to tell her to move. Something about suddenly having two kids means that she's always tired, only slightly less grumpy than before even though she claims she's enormously relieved to not  _have_  to carry the two of them around all the time, and her concept of 'space' as it pertains to people has basically evaporated.

"You okay?" he asks warily. It's a nice thing he knows he should ask, even though what he really wants to do is go run off to Italy and bore himself out of his mind with Roman architecture or something until he just doesn't have to think anymore. Clarisse is his friend, but somehow he's been made into a permanent fixture here and that's really not what he is.

She shrugs. It looks like a complicated movement, seeing as she has a baby in each arm. "For operating on about two hours of sleep? Yup, great." She's bitingly sarcastic, but Nico's pretty sure that means she really  _is_  kind of okay. Not going to collapse on the floor or break down crying, anyway.

"I'm going to Italy soon," he blurts. Stupid ADHD. But Clarisse only looks at him a little curiously and he realizes this is  _exactly_  what he needs to tell her. "Look, I'm not—I've been around here a  _lot_  lately. Like, I'm gone maybe a few days every two months. That's—that's not what I _am_ , Clarisse. I'm leaving soon. I'll be back, but probably not very soon, and I'm not going to be staying like  _this_  again."

Clarisse stares at him, purses her lips, and nods slowly. "I… think I get that."

That surprises him, actually. "You do?"

"Yeah. I'm amazed you stayed this long," she admits, looking away from Nico and down at Aiden. "It… wasn't very  _you_. So, whatever, go run off to Europe or wherever. Just… you won't be gone forever."

It's not said like a question, but Nico knows it is. "I won't be," he agrees, and it's as binding as an oath on the Styx. He smirks at a sudden thought, and suddenly realizes he hasn't been doing that nearly enough lately with all his worries about the—well. Kids. Gods, he was never going to be able to deal with this without stumbling all over it in his head. "'Sides, I promised I'd babysit?"

Clarisse doesn't laugh or scowl, and Nico's slightly worried before he realizes she's just being thoughtful—which worries him more.

"Yes?" he asks slowly.

"You're their godfather," she says abruptly, and looks away immediately.

"You—I—you what?" Nico stammers, going rigid. That is  _not_  what he was expecting. Clarisse is trying to make him her kids' godfather? But—but he'll be a terrible godfather, leaving all the time, and for the gods' sake he uses a sword to suck souls out almost on a daily basis. That isn't going to be much help with the kids.

Probably more help than a father who would never be there, though, Nico realizes suddenly. And doesn't  _he_  know what that's like.

"Look, I get it if you don't want to," Clarisse says miserably. "I just—"

"I'll do it."

Nico surprises himself. But this is—maybe—something he can do. For Jade and Aiden, and maybe even for himself. Clarisse too, he supposes.

"What?" Clarisse sounds more surprised than Nico feels, but much more delighted. "You will? Oh, thank the gods," she says with heartfelt relief. She's not alone, and Nico knows that that's always the most important thing. Because you can always drag yourself up again while someone's kicking you into gear, but only if there's someone  _there_  to kick you into gear.

"No," Nico says softly. "Thank  _you_ , Clarisse."

He's something a little different now. Something a little more needed, a little more  _there_. He'll never be their father and has no intention of ever being so, but when they need him—and he knows that, as fellow children of Hades, they will—he'll be there.

"So go run off on your adventures," Clarisse gripes at him. "Bring them something fancy back from Italy, or wherever."

Nico grins at her. "Sounds good." He heads for the lightswitch and turns it off, but pauses as he hears Clarisse's voice:

"Oh, and Nico?"

He looks back at her. As a child of the Underworld, he can see in dark quite well, and he sees Clarisse grin like a wolf and wink at him.

"Give your father my love if you see him, won't you?"

Nico nearly trips over his own feet as he heads toward the shadows, face suddenly flaming red, and he throws back a foul swearword in Ancient Greek that only makes Clarisse cackle evilly.

Now conscripted as his own half-siblings' godfather, Nico's kind of pretty sure his life is officially over. One last decision in a line of many that Clarisse seems to have invented for the sole purpose of messing up his life.

He's okay with that, though. He thinks he finally approves.

Nico  _thinks,_ still unsure. But he's never been sure of anything, and isn't about to start now, so that's absolutely okay.


End file.
